Whatever happened to the babysitters?
by Chantonii
Summary: Stacey wants to be America’s Next Top Model, Dawn is a crazy hippie, and Claudia is an obese homeless person, MaryAnne is married to Logan, and they might just have sex for the first time. Kristy is principal of SMS…only she’s not Kristy anymore.


BSC story

Whatever happened to the BSC?

Stacey wants to be America's Next Top Model, Dawn is a crazy hippie, and Claudia is an obese homeless person (all those years of eating badly and being a terrible student caught up with her. But, hey, at least in the winter, she doesn't have to buy a blanket, she just wraps her fat around her), Mary-Anne is married to Logan, and they might just have sex for the first time. Kristy is principal of SMS…only she's not Kristy anymore. She's Kurt, and he's started an affair with an old client that could get both of them into trouble.

Standing in the house, I couldn't believe I had made it here. Stacey McGill, soon to be, America's Next Top Model, forget about the other bitches. How could anyone be as sophisticated as me? I lost my virginity in an alley way to Sam Thomas, a guy who still makes fart noises with his arm pits, how could anyone be as sophisticated as MOI?! It's just unpossible. Anyway, back to the present, I knew I had this in the bag for sure. After all, I had been runner-up in America's Next Top Crack Whore, and I would have won too, had that bitch not had more track marks than me. Everyone else agreed that I was robbed. Well, they agreed after I threatened to stab them with an infected needle. Jokes on them, though, I just dipped the needle in jam, it's not filled with gross blood. Ew, barf. I can't eat jam (not that I eat that much at all, eating is not sophisticated AT ALL) because I have diabetes. I thought the judges might feel sorry for me if I told them I had diabetes but it turned out some whore had like AIDS or something, what do I care, just some stupid disease. So now they love her, and when I'm like, HELLO, diabetes is calling and I picked up! The judges just give me looks. I think they're just super jealous of my totally dibble fresh sophisticateness. Whatevs. What was I talking about? Surviving on cocaine and carrot sticks has made me totally…something. I dunno, I have a bad memory. Right now, Tyra Banks is going ape shit about something. I think it's because she's black. I have a black friend, Jessi, and she was always going ape shit about something. Or maybe that was because she copied me and had an eating disorder so she'd be better at ballet, and she stopped having her period. Periods are for losers, anyways. Menstruation…schmenstruation. Not having a period anymore has totally given me an edge on these bitches. I wish Posh Spice was a judge on ANTM. She would understand my sophisticatedness. I have a picture of her taped to my toilet door, so I remember what I'm striving for.

"Hello, Earth to Stacey McGill? Are you there?" Tyra stared at me, like I was stupid. Bitch, please. She doesn't know who she's dealing with. How could she not know about my sophistication? Today, for instance, I was wearing thongs, a ripped mini skirt (and no undies, so everyone could see my vagina when I spread my legs...which is a lot) and a tie dyed boob tube with no bra. So everyone could see how perky my breasts were. They would have been a lot perkier and bigger if I hadn't had that eating disorder in Year 8. But, sacrifices must be made for sophistication. You know, my old friend, Kristy used to say stuff like that, "Earth to Stacey." I wonder what happened to Kristy. We used to say that we were the best of friends, no matter how different we were. But then she came out as a lesbian and I was like, vaginas are icky poo. Be more sophisticated like me! So Kristy got angry and I told her to go plant flowers or whatever it is that lesbians do. I don't really know what a lesbian is.

"Stacey, are you listening? Look, you girls, you need to start looking more alive in photo shoots. We need more DRAMA, more acting, more passion!"

"Maybe we'd be more alive if we weren't so malnourished!" A girl called out. Tyra twisted her head around to glare at her. It was weird; I didn't know it was normal for people to turn their head 360 degrees.

"What…did…you…say?!" Tyra roared. I was scared now. I don't know if my dealer had sold me a bad batch of coke or if Tyra had sprouted horns. If I wasn't so sophisticated I would have started freaking out.

"Do you want your stick of gum for dinner or not? Do I have to whoop your arses into line?!"

"No, Tyra, please." The other model started trembling. Tyra glowered at her, and then flounced off.

"Whoa, dude." I said.

I was so proud of myself. I had splashed red paint on twenty people today, those fur wearing bastards. And my mother says I should get a job.

"Dawn, when the hell are you going to get a real fricking job?!" She shouts down the phone. In fact, she says that when I see her, or when she writes to me. But I just ignore her and tell her to write on recycled toilet paper, to save the Earth. That's what I do, I recycle it myself. When you're done with it, you hang it up on a clothes line to dry, and then you staple it to other sheets and voila, recycled paper! I don't see why my mother is so angry; God gave me the job of saving the universe. That's my purpose, that's why I was made. But when I say that my mum mutters that the only reason I was made is that she had too much goon to drink. And something about my father having a large penis. But who cares what she thinks. Ever since she married that nerd Richard, she never listens to what I have to say. Richard still tries to get me on his good side, even though I'm only his step-daughter. Sometimes he listens to me when I tell him the benefits of using my old hair as tampons. One time I tried to explain more, but he said something like he was in a business meeting and I was on loud speaker. What a NERD. He doesn't understand, he's not a Schafer. Nor he is Californian, which is the best thing to be. My dad is so cool and Californian, he loves the hemp pants I got him for Christmas. Richard didn't like them. I overheard him telling mum he thought I should go to rehab and mum said it was a phase I would grow out of. How is being Californian casual and saving the planet a phase? You know, I haven't seen much of my step-sister Mary-Anne lately. She came to visit me, but she left early, saying something about leaving the oven on. I told her she was killing the planet, and using ovens was one of the main causes of global warming and then Mary-Anne really ran out. I don't think she's used to Californian casual. I tried to get her into it, but she likes wearing stuff like skirts and stupid shit like that, whereas I wear casual stuff like sandals, baggy shorts and men's shirts. Sometimes I'm so casual I tie my long hair underneath my chin. It looks so fresh like that. Mary-Anne and I used to be best friends, but she wanted to be a secretary in a law firm and I wanted to save the penguins. Did you know the polar ice caps are melting? That's why I send ice blocks to Santa in the North Pole. Surely he could use his Christmas magic to save the penguins. And maybe they could repay him by working in the workshop. Man, I have the munchies. Fark, the only thing in my flat that is edible is tofu. Maybe I could make a tofu joint. Oh, that sounds so good. I think I might go visit Claudia and give her one, it might cheer her up.

There's not much that I do these days, but watch people go by. Sometimes there are people who give me money, out of pitee…pety…pity. But still, it's money for Twinkies, and that aint half bad. When I left high school (after repeating the eighth grade twelve times) I thought I would become a famous artist, because all my friends said that even though I was border line retarded, I was a good artist. I'm smart, but school bored me, I just didn't want to try. For some reason, my teachers didn't think that. Four instanse…insence…instance, when I had an affair with my Maths teacher, I heard other teachers talking about how stooped...stoopid…stupid I was. I wanted to talk to him about it, but he said there was a Twinkie in his pants, and I love Twinkies. Sometimes I wish I had not eaten so many Twinkies when I was younger, or all that junk food, for that matter. I used to hide it everywhere. Jelly snakes in my jewellery box, m&ms in my pillow case and Picnic bars in the toilet…but they just got flushed down the toilet. I thought I was invincible; I could eat all the crap I wanted, not exercise and not even get so much as a pimple! But that changed when the hipster jeans fad rolled in….

many, many years ago, back before the wheel was invented and dinosaurs were around

I could not wait to go to the shopping centre and spend my money! Mum said I should save money for my footore…future, or even for a car, but she's just a dumb bitch. What does she know about fashun? Me and Stacey tried on tonnes of clothes, when I saw them. The perfect pair of jeans. I grabbed them before Stacey could see them. They were a bit tight, I had to suck my stomach in and jump around before I could get them on. The jeans were a bit low, too low, but they wouldn't get up over my thighs. I decided this would just be a new, stylish look. I walked out of the change room with the pants around my ankles and twirled around.

"What do you think?" Stacey appeared out of the opposite change room, dressed in a totally dibbly outfit. She had dressed up in a garbage style, she had even put piece of garbage in her hair to complete the look! That is how far she will go to look fashionable, Stacey is just so sophisticated. She had made fake flies out of black felt and attached them to her belt. And then Stacey gasped.

"Claudia…you, you have a muffin top!"

"No, Stacey, muffin tops are found on muffins. Who's retarded now?"

"Claudia, I can't be friends with you anymore!"

"What?! What are you talking about, why not?!?"

"Claudia, I just can't be friends with fat people. It makes me look less sophisticated."

"Who else do you expect me to hang around with? Mallory?! She's so weird, she's shaved her head now, did you know?"

"Yeah, well, at least she doesn't have that horrible, frizzy hair anymore." Stacey swung her hair around, in a perfect Pantene flick and she kept swinging until her hair swung back into her face. I think her hair hip…hypnotized me. I fell onto my knees and started to beg.

"Please, Stacey, please! Can I still be your friend?"

"No! Get off me! People are staring at us!" I grabbed her arm to kiss it, but Stacey threw me off and ran out of the shop.

"Staceyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…COME BACK! Don't leave me like this!"

I stretched my legs and leaned back in my chair, visor tilted on my head all business like and pencil behind my ear, in case I get a great idea. There was a knock on my door and I sat up properly in my chair.

"Come in." It was Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey, checking out the high school for their son, Squirt.

"Please, sit down."

"Thanks Kristy." Mrs. Ramsey beamed and sat down. Mr. Ramsey pinched her on the arm. "Ow, what?! Ohhh…sorry love, I mean-"

"Yes, Mrs. Ramsey, its Kurt now." Mrs. Ramsey's cheeks were the colour of beet root.

"It's just that I'm used to calling you up and booking a baby sitting job. It's hard to get out of that pattern."

"It's quite alright. Now, what do you want to discuss about Stoneybrook High School? It's got great facilities such as-"

"Can I just ask you, do you still have a…erm." Mrs. Ramsey shifted in her chair and looked at her husband for guidance.

"You know, a vagina." He finished.

"Yes, I do. Now, please, call me Principal Thomas and let's get on with this appointment, shall we?"

"But why? I mean, everyone knew you were a flaming cup of homosexual, but to change your sex?"

"Now, really, Mrs. Ramsey, that's just too far." I stood up, knocking my chair over in the process. Mrs. Ramsey looked rather flustered.

"Would you mind leaving now?" Mr. Ramsey walked out right away, but Mrs. Ramsey rummaged through her purse before finding a pen. She scribbled a number down and handed it to me.

"Kris-Kurt, please, call me. I'm sorry. But, promise me you'll call?" She winked, stroked my thigh and sashayed out of my office. I glanced at her arse as she walked out.

"Damn, baby got back."

Dear Diary,

It's weird how so many years have flown by, and my life has come full circle. I even still live near my high school friends. I see Claudia every day when I walk to work. It's just like when we were kids and we would walk to primary school. One thing that is not still the same is that now Kristy is a man. At least, I think she is. She doesn't have a penis or anything, but she doesn't have boobs either. But I still see her sometimes; when I drop the kids off at school. My step-sister Dawn thinks it's awesome that I adopted kids instead of adding to the over populated state of this country. Or that's what she says, anyway. She thinks most things are awesome, anyway, because she's high all day. I don't understand what my adopted kids say; they still don't speak a word of English yet. To be truthful, I prefer my cats to them. After Tigger died, I had him stuffed and put on the mantelpiece, so I could be reminded of him everyday. The kids hate him, but I tell them that unless they want me to send them back to whatever country they came from, they should shut their arses up. I have ten cats now, and I trained them all to use the toilet. They're so smart. Sometimes I think of running away with them, and leaving the kids behind. Next weekend will be my tenth wedding anniversary with Logan. I think we might have sex then. I would like to try. Sometimes I think about sex. I wonder if Logan loves me. Before we got engaged we broke up and he went on some sort of gay cruise. I don't know why he would go on a gay cruise if he's straight. When he came back, he said he was confused, so I called Daddy up to get the gay out of Logan. Daddy went into a room with Logan and took lots of lube with him. Daddy said lube is the best way to get the gay out of people. Anyway, Daddy came out of the room, pulled his pants up and then Logan proposed! I was ever so happy! Mallory sent me tickets for her play, so I'm going to see it with Logan and when we get home, we're going to do something naughty.

Love,

Mary-Anne

Today I put on my very best pants-they're made out of newspaper. Newspaper is so versatile, sometimes I eat newspaper sandwiches, that way, I get news and nutrients. I also wore my vest, which I wove from my armpit hair and my fruit jewellery (literally, I had pineapples hanging from my ear lobes). I looked like I was ready to save the globe. Unfortunately I also looked like a crazy hippie. I looked through my make-up, and decided that today; I would put on some orange lipstick and smear dirt on my cheeks. (Not those cheeks! Besides, there would be different brown stains on those cheeks). Claudia had been feeling a bit down lately, so I promised her I would cheer her up. I had thought of buying her McDonalds, but since I don't have a job, I had no money to buy it. And I hate McDonalds. Do you know that they do there? They inject their lettuces with steroids to make them grow bigger, which means the poor things can't walk because of their size. Then, they are brutally chopped up, and no one listens to their cries. My brother, Jeff, owns several McDonalds restaurants and manages the one near my flat. I had tried to warn him away from that evil corporation, I told him that their milkshakes were made from grounded pig hooves, but he didn't listen. He was intent on working there. Little brothers, always trying to undermine your values. The bastard. I passed the McDonalds he manages on my walk to the supermarket. I had compromised on doing something for Claudia, because I was going to do something for the Earth as well. I planned on protesting the use of plastic bags at the shop. Plastic bags are the devil. They kill animals. One time, a plastic bag floated by me when I was high, and I got freaked out and thought I was being choked. But, I was sure that once the shops heard about my crusade for the Earth, they would surely join me and ban plastic bags. I was wrong. The girl at the service desk stared at me.

"Ma'am, we're doing the best we can to limit the use of plastic bags and our impact on the earth. We encourage customers to purchase environmentally friendly bags, use less plastic bags, use recycled paper bags, but, ultimately, if people choose to use plastic bags, that's their choice."

"You don't love the Earth like I do; you don't understand the Earth like I do."

"That's nice, miss. Now, do you still want that price check on the Nancy Drew book?"

"People may think that Mother Earth has lost her touch that she's getting old. I mean, she may have gained a few pounds, but she's still as hot as she used to be!"

"Okayyyyyy…the book is $12.95. Was that all you wanted to ask?"

"No, I want to ask how you think Mother Earth feels when you wear those skinny leg jeans. She can't fit in to any! What do you think causes floods and tidal waves?! She tries to squeeze herself into those pants, but they burst, and rolls of fat come pouring out."

"Security…?"

"And how do you think she feels when you smother her with the plastic bags from your evil corporation! How would you like to smothered?" With that, I leapt over the counter and shoved a plastic bag over her head. At that point, the security guards came running, so I grabbed the Nancy Drew book and legged it. There was such a kafuffle, (trying to get the shop assistant to breathe or whatever…who cares, with her not breathing, there would be more oxygen in the air, and less carbon monoxide) that no one noticed me sprinting away.

Too dai I was feeling depressed. Lukk…luckilee…luckily Dawn had promised to cheer me up. I hope she's not planning on giving a presentation on global warming or the advantages of smoking marijuana again. But then I spotted her across the street. Her outfit really stood out. She was waving at me and running towards me…when she tripped over her own hair. She layed down on the ground for a while, and I thought she had died, but she swung a lasso out of her arm pit hair and looped it over a street light, which she then used to pull herself up.

"Claudia, my chum, guess what I've got?" She beamed, giving me an eyeful of her rotting teeth. This made me wonder if brushing your teeth contributed to global warming.

"Food?" I hadn't had anything to eat all day; I only had a box of animal crackers hidden between my butt cheeks. Dawn never brought anything to eat when she visited me, and I didn't want to share my only source of food.

"Even better!" She crowed, looking very proud.

"A surgeon to perform free liposuction on me?!" I guessed. Maybe she had that McDreamy fellow behind her; I'd heard good things about that doctor.

"I don't think he would have enough equipment required to get all the fat out of you."

"What is it, Dawn?" I sighed.

"Don't get your Twinkie in a bunch…It's a Nancy Drew book!"

"Oh, Dawn thanks so much!" I started to cry a little. I licked the tears up. What? I was hungry!

"And the best thing is…free papers!" She declared, before tearing a page out of the book. That broke my heart, I died a little inside.

"DAWN, NO! You're ruining the plot!"

"Mellow out, Claud." She passed the joint to me, but I swatted it out of her hands.

"You're smoking Nancy Drew! You've killed her!" Dawn didn't say anything to rebut my accusations. That was it. I rolled over and tackled her. Well, not so much tackled as swatted a fat arm at her. Dawn jumped out of the way.

"Claudia, you could have killed me!"

"Well, you're the murderer here, MURDERER!" I squealed, just like a fat pig. Which is what I am, I suppose. Unfortunately, my attempts to tackle Dawn had loosened my arsehole's hold on the animal crackers and they slipped out. Dawn bellowed like a hurt wildebeest and lunged at them.

"How…dare…you…eat…these…poor…innocent…animals?!" She started to bash me around the head with the box.

"They're not animals, just animals crackers, shaped like animals!"

"OH MY GOD! Are you saying that these are animals shrunk down, and smashed into crackers?"

"No, are you retarded?" Dawn didn't listen; she just pulled the box apart, which scattered the crackers everywhere.

"Be free, my pretties! Go forth and live your furry lives!" She smiled, before turning and spitting on me.

"Murderer." She scowled, and then she flounced off.

Oh, Diary,

You'll never guess what I and Logan have been up to! We've been ever so naughty! I'll skip to the interesting stuff, after Mallory's play, we went out and had a lovely dinner. When we came home, we went into the pool. And we didn't wait, even though we had just eaten! It was a brilliant end to a perfect evening. I really enjoyed Mallory's play, even though it made me cry, (I can cry at the drop of a hat. I cry when I see advertisements for tissues, because I hate feeling sick, and I don't like others feeling sick. And tissues just remind me of crying, so that makes me cry. Sometimes just looking at a chair makes me cry). I think that was the point, though, because Logan said it was "fucking emo". He didn't like the play, much. I told him not to complain, and bring along a magazine if he was bored, I didn't want him to complain and hurt Mallory's feelings. That would make me cry. So, he brought a PLAY GIRL with him while I sat and watched the play happily. Well, maybe not so happily, I'll be honest, Diary, I didn't quite understand it. It was terribly depressing. It starred Mallory and her sister, Vanessa. The costumes were great, though, the best part of the play. Mallory told me she had her twenty two siblings hard at work all day and night, stitching them. She would be great in a sweat shop, if she ever gave up the writing. I'm glad she moved onto more serious writing, and got over the whole horse obsession. I mean, there were rumours about her and Old Jenkins horse. I guess now she's over bestiality and is a full blown lesbian. She introduced me to her girlfriend, Joyless Heart-Full-Of-Pain, who directed the play. I always imagined that Mallory would stay with Ben Hobart, and have tonnes of little fire crotches. I don't know why Mallory and Ben got together in the first place. I mean, Ben is Tasmanian, and Mallory isn't his cousin. But Mallory and Joyless are a nice couple. I wonder how Joyless got over the fact that Mallory looks like a giant penis with her bald head. Not that I would know what a penis looks like. I'm still waiting for Logan to pop the question…"Can I stick my dick in you?" I just keep imagining it; I bet it will be the best day of my life. I hope he will get down on one knee and say it.

Until next time,

Mary-Anne


End file.
